CHAPTER I
GLEN âNOTESâ AND OTHER MATTERS
It was a warm, golden-cloudy, lovable afternoon. In the big living-room at Ingleside Susan Baker sat down with a certain grim satisfaction hovering about her like an aura; it was four oâclock and Susan, who had been working incessantly since six that morning, felt that she had fairly earned an hour of repose and gossip. Susan just then was perfectly happy; everything had gone almost uncannily well in the kitchen that day. Dr. Jekyll had not been Mr. Hyde and so had not grated on her nerves; from where she sat she could see the pride of her heart â the bed of peonies of her own planting and culture, blooming as no other peony plot in Glen St. Mary ever did or could bloom, with peonies crimson, peonies silvery pink, peonies white as drifts of winter snow.
Susan had on a new black silk blouse, quite as elaborate as anything Mrs. Marshall Elliott ever wore, and a white starched apron, trimmed with complicated crocheted lace fully five inches wide, not to mention insertion to match. Therefore Susan had all the comfortable consciousness of a well-dressed woman as she opened her copy of the Daily Enterprise and prepared to read the Glen âNotesâ which, as Miss Cornelia had just informed her, filled half a column of it and mentioned almost everybody at Ingleside. There was a big, black headline on the front page of the Enterprise, stating that some Archduke Ferdinand or other had been assassinated at a place bearing the weird name of Sarajevo, but Susan tarried not over uninteresting, immaterial stuff like that; she was in quest of something really vital. Oh, here it wasââJottings from Glen St. Mary.â Susan settled down keenly, reading each one over aloud to extract all possible gratification from it.
Mrs. Blythe and her visitor, Miss Cornelia â alias Mrs. Marshall Elliott â were chatting together near the open door that led to the veranda, through which a cool, delicious breeze was blowing, bringing whiffs of phantom perfume from the garden, and charming gay echoes from the vine-hung corner where Rilla and Miss Oliver and Walter were laughing and talking. Wherever Rilla Blythe was, there was laughter.
There was another occupant of the living-room, curled up on a couch, who must not be overlooked, since he was a creature of marked individuality, and, moreover, had the distinction of being the only living thing whom Susan really hated.
All cats are mysterious but Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. HydeââDocâ for short â was trebly so. He was a cat of double personality â or else, as Susan vowed, he was possessed by the devil. To begin with, there had been something uncanny about the very dawn of his existence. Four years previously Rilla Blythe had had a treasured darling of a kitten, white as snow, with a saucy black tip to its tail, which she called Jack Frost. Susan disliked Jack Frost, though she could not or would not give any valid reason therefor.
âTake my word for it, Mrs. Dr. dear,â she was wont to say ominously, âthat cat will come to no good.â
âBut why do you think so?â Mrs. Blythe would ask.
âI do not think â I know,â was all the answer Susan would vouchsafe.
With the rest of the Ingleside folk Jack Frost was a favourite; he was so very clean and well groomed, and never allowed a spot or stain to be seen on his beautiful white suit; he had endearing ways of purring and snuggling; he was scrupulously honest.
And then a domestic tragedy took place at Ingleside. Jack Frost had kittens!
It would be vain to try to picture Susanâs triumph. Had she not always insisted that that cat would turn out to be a delusion and a snare? Now they could see for themselves!
Rilla kept one of the kittens, a very pretty one, with peculiarly sleek glossy fur of a dark yellow crossed by orange stripes, and large, satiny, golden ears. She called it Goldie and the name seemed appropriate enough to the little frolicsome creature which, during its kittenhood, gave no indication of the sinister nature it really possessed. Susan, of course, warned the family that no good could be expected from any offspring of that diabolical Jack Frost; but Susanâs Cassandra-like croakings were unheeded.
The Blythes had been so accustomed to regard Jack Frost as a member of the male sex that they could not get out of the habit. So they continually used the masculine pronoun, although the result was ludicrous. Visitors used to be quite electrified when Rilla referred casually to âJack and his kitten,â or told Goldie sternly, âGo to your mother and get him to wash your fur.â
âIt is not decent, Mrs. Dr. dear,â poor Susan would say bitterly. She herself compromised by always referring to Jack as âitâ or âthe white beast,â and one heart at least did not ache when âitâ was accidentally poisoned the following winter.
In a yearâs time âGoldieâ became so manifestly an inadequate name for the orange kitten that Walter, who was just then reading Stevensonâs story, changed it to Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde. In his Dr. Jekyll mood the cat was a drowsy, affectionate, domestic, cushion-loving puss, who liked petting and gloried in being nursed and patted. Especially did he love to lie on his back and have his sleek, cream-coloured throat stroked gently while he purred in somnolent satisfaction. He was a notable purrer; never had there been an Ingleside cat who purred so constantly and so ecstatically.
âThe only thing I envy a cat is its purr,â remarked Dr. Blythe once, listening to Docâs resonant melody. âIt is the most contented sound in the world.â
Doc was very handsome; his every movement was grace; his poses magnificent. When he folded his long, dusky-ringed tail about his feet and sat him down on the veranda to gaze steadily into space for long intervals the Blythes felt that an Egyptian sphinx could not have made a more fitting Deity of the Portal.
When the Mr. Hyde mood came upon him â which it invariably did before rain, or wind â he was a wild thing with changed eyes. The transformation always came suddenly. He would spring fiercely from a reverie with a savage snarl and bite at any restraining or caressing hand. His fur seemed to grow darker and his eyes gleamed with a diabolical light. There was really an unearthly beauty about him. If the change happened in the twilight all the Ingleside folk felt a certain terror of him. At such times he was a fearsome beast and only Rilla defended him, asserting that he was âsuch a nice prowly cat.â Certainly he prowled.
Dr. Jekyll loved new milk; Mr. Hyde would not touch milk and growled over his meat. Dr. Jekyll came down the stairs so silently that no one could hear him. Mr. Hyde made his tread as heavy as a manâs. Several evenings, when Susan was alone in the house, he âscared her stiff,â as she declared, by doing this. He would sit in the middle of the kitchen floor, with his terrible eyes fixed unwinkingly upon hers for an hour at a time. This played havoc with her nerves, but poor Susan really held him in too much awe to try to drive him out. Once she had dared to throw a stick at him and he had promptly made a savage leap towards her. Susan rushed out of doors and never attempted to meddle with Mr. Hyde again â though she visited his misdeeds upon the innocent Dr. Jekyll, chasing him ignominiously out of her domain whenever he dared to poke his nose in and denying him certain savoury tidbits for which he yearned.
ââThe many friends of Miss Faith Meredith, Gerald Meredith and James Blythe,ââ read Susan, rolling the names like sweet morsels under her tongue, ââwere very much pleased to welcome them home a few weeks ago from Redmond College. James Blythe, who was graduated in Arts in 1913, had just completed his first year in medicine.ââ
âFaith Meredith has really got to be the most handsomest creature I ever saw,â commented Miss Cornelia above her filet crochet. âItâs amazing how those children came on after Rosemary West went to the manse. People have almost forgotten what imps of mischief they were once. Anne, dearie, will you ever forget the way they used to carry on? Itâs really surprising how well Rosemary got on with them. Sheâs more like a chum than a step-mother. They all love her and Una adores her. As for that little Bruce, Una just makes a perfect slave of herself to him. Of course, he is a darling. But did you ever see any child look as much like an aunt as he looks like his Aunt Ellen? Heâs just as dark and just as emphatic. I canât see a feature of Rosemary in him. Norman Douglas always vows at the top of his voice that the stork meant Bruce for him and Ellen and took him to the manse by mistake.â
âBruce adores Jem,â said Mrs Blythe. âWhen he comes over here he follows Jem about silently like a faithful little dog, looking up at him from under his black brows. He would do anything for Jem, I verily believe.â
âAre Jem and Faith going to make a match of it?â
Mrs. Blythe smiled. It was well known that Miss Cornelia, who had been such a virulent man-hater at one time, had actually taken to match-making in her declining years.
âThey are only good friends yet, Miss Cornelia.â
âVery good friends, believe me,â said Miss Cornelia emphatically. âI hear all about the doings of the young fry.â
âI have no doubt that Mary Vance sees that you do, Mrs. Marshall Elliott,â said Susan significantly, âbut I think it is a shame to talk about children making matches.â
âChildren! Jem is twenty-one and Faith is nineteen,â retorted Miss Cornelia. âYou must not forget, Susan, that we old folks are not the only grown-up people in the world.â
Outraged Susan, who detested any reference to her age â not from vanity but from a haunting dread that people might come to think her too old to work â returned to her âNotes.â
ââCarl Meredith and Shirley Blythe came home last Friday evening from Queenâs Academy. We understand that Carl will be in charge of the school at Harbour Head next year and we are sure he will be a popular and successful teacher.ââ
âHe will teach the children all there is to know about bugs, anyhow,â said Miss Cornelia. âHe is through with Queenâs now and Mr. Meredith and Rosemary wanted him to go right on to Redmond in the fall, but Carl has a very independent streak in him and means to earn part of his own way through college. Heâll be all the better for it.â
ââWalter Blythe, who has been teaching for the past two years at Lowbridge, has resigned,ââ read Susan. ââHe intends going to Redmond this fall.ââ
âIs Walter quite strong enough for Redmond yet?â queried Miss Cornelia anxiously.
âWe hope that he will be by the fall,â said Mrs. Blythe. âAn idle summer in the open air and sunshine will do a great deal for him.â
âTyphoid is a hard thing to get over,â said Miss Cornelia emphatically, âespecially when one has had such a close shave as Walter had. I think heâd do well to stay out of college another year. But then heâs so ambitious. Are Di and Nan going too?â
âYes. They both wanted to teach another year but Gilbert thinks they had better go to Redmond this fall.â
âIâm glad of that. Theyâll keep an eye on Walter and see that he doesnât study too hard. I suppose,â continued Miss Cornelia, with a side glance at Susan, âthat after the snub I got a few minutes ago it will not be safe for me to suggest that Jerry Meredith is making sheepâs eyes at Nan.â
Susan ignored this and Mrs. Blythe laughed again.
âDear Miss Cornelia, I have my hands full, havenât I? â with all these boys and girls sweethearting around me? If I took it seriously it would quite crush me. But I donât â it is too hard yet to realize that theyâre grown up. When I look at those two tall sons of mine I wonder if they can possibly be the fat, sweet, dimpled babies I kissed and cuddled and sang to slumber the other day â only the other day, Miss Cornelia. Wasnât Jem the dearest baby in the old House of Dreams? and now heâs a B.A. and accused of courting.â
âWeâre all growing older,â sighed Miss Cornelia.
âThe only part of me that feels old,â said Mrs. Blythe, âis the ankle I broke when Josie Pye dared me to walk the Barry ridge-pole in the Green Gables days. I have an ache in it when the wind is east. I wonât admit that it is rheumatism, but it does ache. As for the children, they and the Merediths are planning a gay summer before they have to go back to studies in the fall. They are such a fun-loving little crowd. They keep this house in a perpetual whirl of merriment.â
âIs Rilla going to Queenâs when Shirley goes back?â
âIt isnât decided yet. I rather fancy not. Her father thinks she is not quite strong enough â she has rather outgrown her strength â sheâs really absurdly tall for a girl not yet fifteen. I am not anxious to have her go â why, it would be terrible not to have a single one of my babies home with me next winter. Susan and I would fall to fighting with each other to break the monotony.â
Susan smiled at this pleasantry. The idea of her fighting with âMrs. Dr. dear!â
âDoes Rilla herself want to go?â asked Miss Cornelia.
âNo. The truth is, Rilla is the only one of my flock who isnât ambitious. I really wish she had a little more ambition. She has no serious ideals at all â her sole aspiration seems to be to have a good time.â
âAnd why should she not have it, Mrs. Dr. dear?â cried Susan, who could not bear to hear a single word against anyone of the Ingleside folk, even from one of themselves. âA young girl should have a good time, and that I will maintain. There will be time enough for her to think of Latin and Greek.â
âI should like to see a little sense of responsibility in her, Susan. And you know yourself that she is abominably...